Spaced
by OuyangDan
Summary: Drabbles, possibly out of order, based on the universe of my Shepard, Jeryn.
1. Akuze

She still has the dreams.

They are vivid enough that they wake her in the middle of her sleep. They disturb her enough that any hope of going back to sleep is lost and she has to get out of her rack and wander to calm her mind. The bright flashes of the fighting, the screeching of the thresher maws, the screams of her squad-mates … it all runs like a holo-movie through her mind even after Jeryn's stumbled into consciousness. It has been _years_ since Akuze and she can still play through ever moment as if it were just days ago.

Sometimes she goes below deck to the lower hold and runs on the treadmill just to get some of the adrenaline to subside. Occasionally it helps, other times it doesn't. Once in a while it riles her up more when she finds her mind drifting to memories of sprinting for cover. Memories of trying to survive for _just a few more minutes_ to buy the others time.

It didn't work, though.

The guilt weighs on her even when she doesn't let it show. It is useless to worry on it, and when people ask how she goes on Jeryn puts on her Skipper's Face and tells them pretty lies. _You move on_, she tells them. _You learn not to dwell_, she reassures them. _Grieve and move on_, she reiterates like a mantra. She has an answer for everything and each one takes just a little more effort to make convincing.

Especially on days like this.

She rests with her forehead against the crook of her elbow for a moment as if she can make the flashbacks stop by the force of her will alone. When that doesn't work, she swears and stomps to the floor then on to the elevator.

Stopping at her gear locker she grabs her knit bag of sundries and turns down the passageway to the shared State Room head. Flipping the sign to 'Occupied' she pushes in through the hatch. What moving won't relieve, perhaps the water will. It's times like this that Jeryn longs for the actual showers that she can let run on some of the central space stations, the build-up of steam being just the thing to soothe the worry from her mind.

Working the soap into a quick lather she freezes when she hears a sound, a scuff. She isn't alone, and reflexes combined with a triggered response have her reacting before her brain has a moment to catch up. Spinning around she slams her forearm into a throat and screams out as she pins the other person to the bulkhead.

Alenko's voice is barely a grunt when he finally gets out sound. "Shepard," he ekes and tries to swallow against the force of her arm. "You all right?"

"Shit," she snaps back to reality with one word and shakes her head. "Yeah, I just … you didn't turn the sign."

Realizing what she is doing, she steps back and crosses her arms over herself, a glimpse of horror is noticeable before she slides her Face back into place.

He rubs at his throat with one hand for a moment then tries to play it off casually, looking away and at the ceiling. "Gosh, yeah. Apologies for that. I didn't think …" Rubbing at his forehead he blinks several times against the light.

"Headache?" she asks, happy to shift the topic from herself as she grabs her towel to wrap around herself, then wiping some soap away from the path to her eyes. She wonders how she missed him being in here. He's in PT gear, making her realize that she must have been more out of sorts than she'd realized.

"What?" he queries before giving one bark that sounds like a chuckle but clearly hurts his head. "Oh, that. Yeah. I thought that-"

"The shower would help?" she finishes for him.

"Exactly."

"How did that work for you?" She is relieved to not have to talk about this awkward encounter, the soap in her hair, what she is doing awake when it isn't her shift yet.

"Not well. I was just about to give sleep another go."

She scrubs at her eyes and wipes soap into them which makes them burn and her swear again. "No luck for me either, apparently." She tries to laugh it off. He uses that face that is full of meaning, with things that she thinks are unsaid but doesn't want to ask one way or another.

"Right." He doesn't believe her, and she doesn't expect him to. The sound of his shower shoes on the deck tell her that he's fidgeting and possibly nervous, and she wishes one of them would just rip off the bandage and say something. It would be easier than all of this talking around things that seems to have become a holding pattern for them.

Now is not the time, with the vacant eyes of her squad burned into her vision every time she closes her eyes. Without ever saying it, she thinks that he knows that, too. He's distracted her long enough that it is easier to push the visions from her mind, though, and for that she's grateful. She regrets the mark on his throat that looks as if it might bruise, though there isn't anything that can be done for it now.

"I'll just … leave you to it, then, Commander." She follows him with her eyes as he grabs up his own sundry bag and turns for the hatch.

"Kaidan," she drops protocol completely and catches his eyes in the mirror on the far wall. It's a step further than either of them have ever gone.

He turns and lifts an eyebrow. "Jeryn?"

"Thanks," she says a lot with just that one word.

He nods once. "Any time, Commander," his voice dips low and he steps over the frame of the hatch and leaves her to rinse her hair.


	2. Tears He Left Behind

The waves licked the shore, lapping a bit over his booted feet as he made his way down the waterline.

It had been a whole Earth year since the loss of the _Normandy_. To the date. It had been easy enough to get leave, little enough explanation had been necessary.

It wasn't the first time that a shipmate had given their life to make sure that he lived, and possibly not the last. That though alone clenched at his gut, and he forced the faces from his mind before he could dwell on it.

That wasn't entirely true. He could still see her face every time he closed his eyes. The scarred brow, the slant of her dark eyes, the way her mouth curled up on one side into not-quite-a-smile, how her short-cropped hair stood up in the back when she first woke up. They were mostly general things he remembered. The way he had been honoured to serve under her command. The way respect was drawn to her and how quickly she gained the loyalty of a crew. They would have followed her to the end of dark space and back. They practically did.

The details became fuzzy over the months as they had stretched on. He wondered how long it would be until he couldn't recall the sound of her voice whether giving an urgent order or sighing his name into his ear. He choked over the memory. It had finally become possible to not cry, though that had taken some time.

Loss never settled well with him. Not Jenkins, not Ashley, and not her. Each time he had been there, and he had been the one to walk away from it. For the longest time he had been angry about the Gunny. He had been prepared to die that day, but she had come back for him and left Ashley there. Ashley had saved them, but she had chosen to save him. He wanted to hate her for it. He wanted to blame her for the guilt, but the truth was that no one could lay fault to anyone for what happened.

They all knew that death had been a possibility when they signed on.

The past year had been a tumult of self-blame and loathing. People talked about him, around him, rarely to him. What had there been to say? It wasn't something he talked about openly. They had been protective of their privacy, both for personal and professional reasons. They had been skirting the edges of regs, and they knew it. There was little to discuss with anyone, and no one to listen anyhow. No one that understood.

The hardest order he ever had to follow was leaving her behind.

Kaidan unclasped the chain around his neck, the one with his service tags, and slid one off. They came in pairs, and he held the second in his hand, rubbing a thumb over it, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Roberts and Cheng had been razzing him about that doctor back on the Citadel, and it was possibly time to at least give it some thought.

_We grieve and move on. Grieve, move on, and live._

Her words after Virmire echoed in his mind. She wouldn't want him holding onto this like an anchor. She wouldn't want him to let it pull him to the seabed.

He looked down in his hand at the tag.

_Shepard, Jeryn M. CMDR_

Gripping it tightly in one hand briefly, Kaidan opened his palm, the charge of blue energy engulfing his hand and the tag. Furrowing his brow at it slightly, it lifted in his hand. Closing his eyes he pulled his hand back and pushed it out over the tide. It skipped like a stone for a few dozen meters, and then was gone.

Just like she was gone.

Taking a deep breath as the energy dissipated, he pinched the bridge of his nose slightly against a tinge of migraine aura. He looked out over the water to where he'd last seen the tag, nodded once, and then turned away, making his way back up the shore.

_This is for long-forgotten  
Light at the end of the world  
Horizon crying  
The tears he left behind long ago_

_The Islander – Nightwish_


	3. Later

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Every explosion, every bit of shrapnel. Every rent piece of metal in their way. It slammed visions of Akuze into her head so fast she wasn't prepared. The dreams had subsided for weeks now after Omega 4. The traitorous trembling of her hands returned as she gripped the pistol for comfort.

Everything around them was burning. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Once again Jeryn watched as vacant expressions replaced terrorized faces. Rationally, she knew this wasn't her fault. Rationally, she was assured that she'd warned them. Rationally she had given them all the notice she could.

Her mind wouldn't let go of it though. Inside, in that place where she held onto every failure, the little voice told her.

_This too, is on your head_.

"Shepard!" Anderson's sharp bark pulled her from her reverie and she whipped around to look at him. Brushing a bit of blood that was creeping from her eyebrow she nodded once.

"Right behind you."

_Don't die_, she thought._ I won't be able to handle that right now_.

There wasn't time to fall apart.

Later. Later was always the time. Never now.

When, she wondered, would it be _now_?


	4. Control

_Bittersweet_.

It is the only word that comes to mind as she watches Earth drift away.

Jeryn's feet are back on the Normandy. On _her_ ship. This should be a comfort. It should give her back the sensation of control again, grounding herself to her command. She grips her Alliance tags in her hand — one hers and one not — so hard they bite into her palm. She pockets them quickly before the Major can see that she's stupidly held onto his tag all this time. Clearly, he has not done the same.

Instead of control, standing on the hatch of the loading dock, the fear pools in her belly. Her mentor, Commanding Officer, friend, and if she were honest, the man whose been more of a father to her all these years throws himself into the fray. He's right, and there is no use in denial. He's needed here as much as she is needed on the Citadel to plead their case.

"Shepard, come on, we have to close the hatch." Kaidan grips her elbow and pulls ever-so-slightly. The touch is professional, almost cool, and it makes her wince. "Inside. Let's go."

Reflexively, she pulls her elbow away. She can't yet reconcile the comfort and relief at having him back to fight at her side with the tearing hole of cold distance. "Right."

She follows him to the cargo hold where Vega is pacing back and forth. He makes his way to one side and turns around as if he's bounced off of something unseen and goes the other way. He's building up angry momentum that is palpable on his face. Were she not trying to hold herself firmly together, she might have grinned at how like Grunt he is at times.

Instead he yells. He's in her face. "Bullshit. We can't just leave him here. He'd never tell us to leave him behind."

Jeryn sets her teeth. Normally he wouldn't be right.

"You need to calm down," she finally snaps, jabbing two fingers into his wall of a chest. It seems to be enough to halt him in place.

"You don't know. You. Don't. Know." Every word she barks is staccato, full of frustration. "Don't you think I want to stay, too?" _I can't lose Anderson_. She shoves the thought from her mind, and stubbornly. He'll be fine. He didn't get as old as he is by not knowing his way around a fight.

The Lieutenant storms off, hands in the air. Jeryn can't even yell. She feels the same way.

Kaidan looks at her, the ghost of skepticism, still unspoken on his face. She opens her mouth to speak when Joker, predictably, interrupts the moment.

She grinds her teeth when Hacket ends the transmission. There's always one more thing to do.

Glancing back at the Major, she knows it will have to wait. She has so much to say, and no time to say it. It will have to wait until after Mars.

Control.

She is losing it, and she needs to keep it. Just a little longer.


	5. Hesitation

_Hesitation_.

Jeryn knows from personal experience that when you hesitate, people die.

She saw it on Akuze. She remembers too well. Not that she could have stopped what happened single-handedly, but the part of her mind that tracks every failure won't let her really believe it.

Her hand is curled around the weapon, finger hugging the trigger, but her hands are shaking. She has a clear shot and she chokes. She's never choked.

Snipers _know_. They can lie in wait, for days if they have to, for that perfect, clear shot. They know the difference between one that might hit true and one that without a doubt will.

This is the latter.

Any other time the squeeze would have been instant. Any other time, she wouldn't even have to think. It would be automatic. Muscle memory earned from years of training. Perfect practice makes perfect, and this shot is perfect.

But her throat closes and her hands tremble. All she can see is his life being snuffed out in front of her.

She _hesitates_, and the perfect shot is gone.

The rest is like slow motion as her chest seizes. She can feel every impact.

When the monstrosity of a thing is charging at her, she doesn't hesitate again. The shot hits its mark and she takes the bot down in a single blow.

It's too late, though.

She _hesitated_.

She knows what happens when you hesitate.


	6. Don't

"_I_ could use you," she chokes over the words. What she means is that she needs him. It's too soon after too long.

She's seen him be many things over many years. Determined, defiant, awkward. She's seen him dance, she's seen him love. She's seen him angry and mistrustful.

She's never seen him so vulnerable. She never thought of him as fragile until now.

Jeryn blinks back the tears from whiskey coloured eyes. He's never seen her cry. She knows he can't see her now, but she still won't do it. It doesn't matter.

"I should have talked to you before Mars. I should have made the time," she loses the words in her struggle to keep the tears at bay.

Firmly, she places her hands on the bed rail, and her arms shake. They tremble so violently. She's held it together. She's endured. She's been to hell and back again. She always looks it in the face. Always puts the mission first. There is no time to break down. No time to lose control. This war is too big and too much is at stake.

The tears are like shards as they betray her facade.

She can no more stop them than she could stop the invasion on Earth. She fails to keep them back just as she failed to stop the synthetic from brutalizing him. Quietly, she sobs.

It could have been minutes or hours, she doesn't know. She jumps when she realizes the doctor is behind her, kindly and politely giving her space. He can sense he's intruding on a very intimate moment.

Embarrassed as she's never been, she scrubs the heels of her palms across her eyes. Her head pounds in the unfamiliar way that comes with heavy crying. She pretends that her face isn't swollen or splotchy and she puts the mask of Commander back on, if clumsily.

"If you need anything, doctor, you know where to reach me." She can barely get it out. She can barely breathe, but she demands herself to sound authoritative.

Pausing, just for a moment, she lays a hand on the door. A still shaking hand.

"Don't die." The words close her throat and make her gut drop out of her. Lifting her chin, determined that the rest of the universe will not know this weakness, she breathes deeply. Exhales audibly. "That's an order, Major."

_Don't. Die_.

The words sear into her mind, the most over-used words in recent days. They don't even sound like words any longer.

She's not ready to leave the room. To leave him.

She has no choice.

With lips pressed into a hard line, she exits, making a line for the Presidium.


	7. Dance

She's rattled and bewildered when she wakes from the dream. She can't even begin to discern what any of it can means, and she files it all neatly away under "Things About Me That Are Fucked Up". It's all she has time for.

To calm down, she decides to go down to the cargo bay for a workout. Maybe a run. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it just riles her up more. Nights like this, she misses Jacob. He was always good for a run, a spotter on the weight bench, or just pointless chatter.

Jeryn is angry and and agitated. Feeling helpless is pissing her off more than anything ever has. She wants someone to blame for everything, someone other than herself.

Unfortunately the first person who crosses her path is Lieutenant Vega. She watches him on the pull-up bar for a few moments before clearing her throat to announce her presence. He doesn't even have the decency to give her an Attention on Deck, though she's never demanded it from anyone else. Still, she's so full of irritation that this also pisses her off. He won't even look at her, and she wonders if he feels guilty at all.

It isn't fair, and she knows it, but her rational mind isn't in control.

_She's_ not in control. She's not sure she's fit to be CO right now. Not that she has any choice at the moment.

She picks his brain about inane things for a few minutes, struggling to keep her cool. He's brazenly nonchalant, but when has she ever been a stickler for protocol? Dropping from the bar and wrapping his wrists, he asks her to dance, and that delivers another punch in the gut full of memories she can't deal with right now.

"Oh, I can dance," she nearly sneers. She's going to dance on her terms, and if he thinks she'll go down that easily then he isn't half as clever as she gave him credit for back during House Arrest. She cracks her knuckles and stands ready. Defend yourself at all times. First rule.

Blow for blow, it feels _good_. She feels _vindicated_ in her simmering rage. In her helpless grief-driven pique. She's letting out the energy, the anger, the barely controlled fury at her own ineptness. At his carelessness. She's listening, looking for something to throw in his face. Instead, she unexpectedly finds something to empathize with.

"It," she grunts, blocking a right hook. "Wasn't your fault." Not that time, anyhow. "You didn't know." She hops neatly back, light on her toes. All the time with the jump rope pays off. Irony in her words, she knows. She also doesn't care.

"What are you, a shrink?" He's provoking her, almost as if he knows. There's a bit of humor in his eyes as he pulls his head out of her reach and dodges her jab.

She isn't sure which of them should be sitting on the couch at this point.

"You're reckless," she growls.

"Maybe," he nearly roars, "I'm just willing to do whatever the fuck it takes to—" blocking a cut, grabbing the arm and using his own weight against him for momentum, she shuts him up.

"If you're half as good as I think you are, we need you alive." She grits her teeth. _If you hadn't made the shuttles explode. If you hadn't crash landed and shaken us all. If you hadn't_ …

He's looking up at her from his back, his expression unreadable.

She draws a few breaths audibly through her nose before she offers him a hand up.

_But it isn't his fault_, her subconscious grabs ahold of her. Finally. She deflates.

"Don't. Die." She growls it. She's not sure who she's talking to any more.

He lifts one eyebrow at her. He looks slightly amused, and it makes her laugh. "Thanks for the dance, Lola."

She should drop him. She should call him out. She should lock him at attention and bust his ass down.

Instead she feels her eyes roll, because she crossed a line, and he's meeting her at it. That's what shipmates do, and that trumps anything else in this moment. "Lola?"

"Yeah. You look like a Lola."

"All right." Whatever's happened, she needed it. "I'll let you get away with it." She feels better and kicks him in the shin. "Because you're cute."

"All right. Now I'm blushing."

"That's just because I beat your ass."

"I like you, Lola," he chuckles and walks back to his work out nook.

"As you were, Lieutenant."


	8. Squeak

"We also keep hearing a strange squeaking sound down here," she points.

Jeryn glances over to where all of her personal effects have been jostled around. She palms her face, still a bit shaky from the nightmare.

"Ruby."

"I beg your pardon, Commander?" Specialist Traynor looks at her, clearly concerned.

"Never mind." Jeryn grits her teeth, shaking off the last of sleep. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the cargo hold."

~^v^~

That damned squeak echoes again.

She knows the damned thing is down here. Whoever let a hamster out on a spaceship should be keelhauled. Had she a keel to haul someone across.

Sighing, Jeryn follows the sound down the ladderwell into the hold below Engineering.

The damned lighting is darker than before. She knows it's regs, but it still irritates her. The entire Galaxy is fighting a war, and she's chasing a blasted hamster.

If Ruby gets into the core, she could muck up the entire ship, and then they'll be floating out here in the middle of no where, Joker will probably cry, and then who will fight the Reapers?

Jeryn chuckles out loud at her own ridiculous thoughts as something catches her eye. It's barely a flick of movement, but it doesn't belong.

"Gotcha!" She leaps at the scurrying rodent, but winds up plowing into a stack of gear lockers. Using the bulkhead to support herself, she gets back up and starts digging. The squeak and the flash of darting is behind her now, and she trips over the cable and scrapes her knee on the non-skid.

"Shit." She looks at the hole in her utilities and the freshly bleeding wound. Raking hands through her short-cropped hair, she feels the tears prickle at her eyes for some reason she can't or won't understand.

Hearing the squeak again, Jeryn looks up.

"You little scamp," she laughs. Ruby is sitting right in front of her. "Let's go, you." Scooping her up, she cups her hands around Ruby and climbs the ladderwell.


	9. Toothbrush

"Specialist, we can requisition you a tooth brush. We didn't really leave with advanced notice." Jeryn chuckles and remembers what it was like to be so green. Half pissing your pants when someone Gunny or above spoke to you.

It's endearing. This is a problem she can solve. So many crumbling pieces around her, but this she can manage.

"I have the forms in my cabin," Jeryn tells her.

"Oh, no, you don't understand, Commander." She gives a very lengthy and detailed explanation of her toothbrush, which sounds more technologically advanced than the scope on Jeryn's sniper rifle. "It cost six thousand credits," Traynor whispers.

Jeryn's eyes widen slightly. "You … well. Good dental hygiene is a commendable goal. You … uh … you're on your own for that one, though."

She thinks the galaxy might be worse off than she originally thought.


	10. Lost

Jeryn's heart sinks right into her stomach when Liara points to the monitor.

Vega looks at them and his face pulls down, frowning in a way that makes the white scar through his lip tighten.

"We have an old friend there," she explains to him quietly. The sounds of the battle are so far away and yet so loud. Jeryn shakes her head. "Strongest military in the galaxy …" She trails off because she just can't put to words her devastation.

_Garrus. Don't die_.

"Was it like this back on Earth?" Liara's huge eyes don't seem quite as young and naive as they did the day Jeryn first rescued her.

All Jeryn can do is nod.

"I am so sorry," Liara whispers.

Vega's eyes go blank for a few moments. He's not green. He's not untested in combat. He has the scars, literal and figurative, to show it. This is the worst he's seen things, though. The look of helplessness on his face mirrors her own feelings, but he doesn't hide his emotions the way she has forced herself all of these years.

She knows that look. He could go either way. For a fleeting moment the Lieutenant seems lost. She knows too well that these moments, these things he sees piled on top of that burden he already carries could steel him or break him.

Desperately she hopes it's the former.


	11. OverConfident

Even through the cacophony of destruction, she picks his voice out of the many before he even mounts the platform. The amount of relief that washes over her to see him standing tall and unharmed and _alive_ is palpable. It's as if there is one bright spot in all of the devastation she's seen in just a handful of Earth days. Bits of tension roll away, and she shifts her stance and is slightly more relaxed in moments.

For the first time in what feels like another life, a grin splits her face and actually crinkles her eyes nearly closed. She'd hug him for old times' sake, but the bulk of armour and the fact that they are standing in a war zone makes it impractical. It's also slightly unprofessional, but with the way people are dropping out of her life she wouldn't care.

"Garrus," she breathes. _You didn't die_.

She can take one name off the ever-growing list of people she needs to not die. No matter the situation, he lightens the burden. He makes the goals seem attainable, even if it is just with his over-confidence in her.

Jeryn is relieved that he is the foothold they have to the Turian Fleet. Proudly, she introduces him to the Lieutenant. If there is adoration mingled with the profound respect she has for him, it is only because he's earned it. Many times over.

"I need your help, Garrus," she states with more confidence than she feels.

"When don't you need my help, Shepard?" His tone seems out of place, but it is surely not unwelcome.


	12. Leaving

It is a hard thing to leave a battle, especially when it ravages your home.

Standing quietly, Jeryn doesn't intrude upon whatever is going through Victus' head as he contemplates the fiery mess that has become his home. Niggling at the back of her mind is doubt that there will be any Earth left. If she takes this military great from this moon, Palaven could face the same. He'll be wondering the whole time same as she.

"We need the Krogan," he finally says.

Jeryn's jaw drops slightly. It doesn't change how true it is.

"I told you. Didn't I tell you? We need the _meat_. The heavy hitters." Vega slams a fist into the opposite palm and Jeryn shoots him the kind of glare that makes junior Marines shit themselves. He snaps his mouth shut, nodding his apologies. The glowing orange of Palaven reflects off of his eyeshields.

"That is a bit of a tall order," Jeryn starts. She agrees, and if anyone can make even the beginnings of a case to the Krogans, she is confident it is her.

It's the first thing she has felt sure of since leaving Earth.

Even Commander Shepard feels anxiety when addressing military heroes. Her stomach is twisted tightly with coiled nerves as she approaches Victus at the War Terminal. He lifts his head and returns her look, and it halts her a moment. Something passes between them silently before he even speaks.

"I know that look, Commander Shepard." His tone is smooth and calm, and it has the appropriate effect on her. "You didn't ask to be a leader," he sympathises with her. "But your people will die if you refuse."

No one has made her feel so young in years. His experience might pile up to her own due to sheer years, but she still can't fathom him putting her on his level.

"That's about right."

They both stand in understanding silence for another moment before he beckons her over to view the casualty reports. She's not sure she can stand to see more numbers, but she owes it to him to see what she's asked him to do.

"The numbers are staggering, and I am millions of miles away," he informs her. Almost as if she doesn't already know.

"The hardest thing I've done was leave Earth in the middle of that." That is mostly true.

Victus nods. "That's the only reason I even listened to you."

At least he's honest. She appreciates that.


	13. Coloquialism

"Ha! It's like shooting fish in a barrel!" Jeryn has to admit, the boy has enthusiasm. He also has a mean uppercut and ridiculously good aim.

"What was that?" They clear the husks ahead of them and advance, Garrus turning around for a moment to regard Vega curiously. He tilts his head just slightly to one side.

"You know. It's a human saying. Fish. In. A. Barrel."

Garrus still looks puzzled.

"I'll explain it to you later, Garrus. Maybe with visual aids." Jeryn gives him a shrug and a half smirk.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Shepard."


	14. Right

Placing her hands on the rail she watches for a few minutes before interrupting. His flattering words on her behalf to the Primearch strike home and fill her with odd satisfaction. It is always reassuring to hear that someone you admire so ardently returns that.

"Doesn't take you long to get to work, Garrus." She knows his response before he says it.

"These weapons aren't going to calibrate themselves."

She snickers. "It's good to have you back, for more than just your good aim." It's almost as if nothing has changed and no time has gone by.

"Yeah," he starts with that ever-present hint of humor. "I am pretty sure we're still going to need big guns, though."

He shifts and looks at her a bit solemnly. Conversations with Garrus have a tendency to veer wildly from mood to mood even in the same sentence. It's refreshing in its own way.

"What do you think of our chances, Garrus?" She doesn't need to tell him to be honest. Garrus never did sugar coat things. Not even for her.

"Turians are taught from birth that when the war ends, if there is one person left standing, it's a victory."

"That's an interesting metric you're using." She looks at her feet, realizing that he's right. As much as she hates it, he's right.

"The problem is that humans want to save everyone." He's realistic. She has always valued that above all. Even his ace calibrations.

Rolling her lips in over her teeth for a moment, she changes the subject. "Someone is going to have to rebuild Palaven when this is over, you know. You could be Primearch Vakarian."

"Ha. Let's not go there, Shepard." He chucks her on the arm, and they stand in silence staring at one another for a few moments.

"It doesn't really feel good to be proven right, does it Shepard?" He glances at her from the terminal.

"Not at all, Garrus. Not at all."


	15. Synthetic

Jeryn's first reaction is to eliminate the synthetic.

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops slightly. Her hands are already trembling and she wonders how long it would take her to yank the fire extinguisher from the wall and crack it in the face.

She's back on Mars and spinning in slow motion. She's back in that moment of hesitation. That moment of absolute terror. That moment when the bot in front of her smashed his body against the shuttle and ravaged him brutally.

_I should have destroyed it when I had the chance._

EDI's voice snaps her back to the present, where she finds she's hesitated again. Fortunately this didn't have the consequences of last time.

"EDI, what did you do?" she whispers harshly between her teeth as the smoke dissipates.

"I ran several tests on this unit when you brought it aboard. The transition was a bit abrupt. I do seem to have it well under control." EDI is, as always, completely even and mild in tone. Jeryn stares in disbelief of what she's seeing.

"You should have let us know. This was dangerous, and you shouldn't have done it alone."

EDI rattles through a list of logical reasons — logical to EDI anyhow — as to why this was not a good idea. Even Jeryn isn't sure she entirely disagrees, but part of her mind is still stuck on Mars.

"You are going to want to give the crew some time." What she means is that_she_ is going to need some time. "That body was shooting at them not too long ago." What she means is that body was _actively trying to kill Kaidan_ not too long ago, and it may well still succeed.

That hits her abruptly like a punch in the gut.

With one final glare, Jeryn finally softens. "Just … be careful," she warns.

"Understood, Shepard. I should go to see Joker. He will want to see this."

"At least we agree on that," Jeryn adds wryly, though she's still trying to wrangle in her rational mind again.


	16. Air

"What about you? I'm noticing a little wear and tear."

Jeryn is taken aback slightly, though deep down she knows she shouldn't be. Hardly anyone knows her better. She wants to say "fine". She wants to say "as good as usual". She knows she can't lie. Not to him. He's never left, and has always trusted, and has always seen through the bullshit.

"I …" she sighs. It's too public. There are too many others around. They recognize her, and like it or not, they are counting on her to be strong.

That's not heavy at all.

"To tell the truth, I've been better." Her face clearly says that's not the whole of it. The slight downward turn of her mouth, the creasing of her eyes. The worry lines that mark time across her skin. It all adds up to someone just holding on to that public face of strength that has suddenly been trademarked for this war.

"Don't forget to come up for air," he says it quietly.

She keeps her face steeled, but she knows he can see the dings in the foundation.

She nods. "Keep up the good work. I'll see you back on the ship."


	17. Steam

"Bah. That was just some good ol' Krogan letting off steam. If it was serious, they'd be dead."

Jeryn's face brightens just a bit with obvious affection.

Vega looks like a varren about to make on the floor he's so excited over meeting Wrex. He casually suggests that he and Wrex go "toe to toe" when they're all finished. With what, he doesn't say.

Wrex gives him the best Krogan Grin that Jeryn has ever seen, and if the Lieutenant knew half as much as he thought, he'd be pissing himself.

"Ha." Wrex chucks Jeryn on the arm. She falls back a step but doesn't show on her face that this actually hurt just a bit. She's had worse. Hell, she's headbutt a Krogan and had the lump on her forehead to brag about it for weeks after. "Shepard ever tell you about our little "discussion" back on Virmire. Those were the days."

"Yeah." Garrus' voice is full of it's usual sarcasm. "Wow. Those were fun times." Jeryn didn't realize that Turians rolled their eyes until that moment.

"Figures I gotta make friends with the one Turian who thinks he's funny." Wrex bobs his head.

"How do you think I feel? My whole life I'm told I'm supposed to hate you. Yet, here we are."

Jeryn smirks as Vega looks between the two of them, his face about to split.

"If you want, we can throw some Salarians off the cliff. That might be fun."

The Salarian guard glares, and the other frowns deeply. What are they going to do? Wrex has already shown them that they are pretty much SOL in dealing with him.

"Ah. That sounds like a cheery, afternoon outing." Garrus gives Wrex an Atta Boy, which makes him roar with laughter.

"If you two are quite finished?" Jeryn can't hide the amusement on her face.

She jerks her head to the others to follow. "We'll be back, Wrex."

"I'd really like to have a go with him," Vega is nearly hopping now.

"Lieutenant. He would eat you. Let's just go."


	18. Alive

_Why am I nervous?_

Jeryn stands outside the room and looks longingly through the window.

Maybe it is enough to just see that he is alive. He is moving. His breathing looks more even. Even though his eyes are closed, she doesn't have to go in to see that he's improved.

Taking a half step back she wants to leave. He asked her to come, but she still wasn't sure. Wasn't sure if it would be a repeat of Horizon. Of Mars. Her chin quivers ever-so-slightly and she fights the tears.

"Are you going in, Commander Shepard?" The doctor gives her a sympathetic look.

"I …" _Well? Are you?_ "Of course I am. I just didn't want to disturb—"

"He's not asleep. Just resting. Go on in."

She's still frozen. She'd take on the Collector base again if she could to get out of this. Finally she puts one foot in front of the other and opens the door.

"Hey," she says, keeping her voice so tightly even it feels foreign.

His eyes flicker and then she's looking into them. "Shepard."

He's bruised and still clearly battered and she can't get the brutal imagery out of her head. He isn't as pale and doesn't look so fragile anymore, but her hands are still shaking.

Jeryn moves a step towards him and stops. "How're you doing, Major?"

He chuckles weakly, and she tries to pretend not to notice.

"Major, is it? All right. I'm fine. Medical miracles and dumb luck and here I am. Fine."

That makes her lip curl up slightly and she finally sits. She folds her hands together over one knee to hide the tremors. _You didn't die_. She lets out a breath audibly that she hopes doesn't sound too much like a breath of relief. She bites the inside of her mouth to stave off the tears of utter joy.

She asks him a few mundane questions. He answers. It's pleasant. She relaxes. He asks about her thoughts on being a Spectre. She gives him a bottle of whiskey, and suddenly it feels stupid.

He locks his fingers together over his stomach and leans back, closing his eyes.

"Look. After Mars. After Horizon I just … I'm … not seeing anyone. I mean, I don't expect … I just … I needed you to know that."

Jeryn blinks a few times and stares with her mouth slightly open. "Kaidan, I …"

"No, listen," he interrupts gently. We always had each other's backs. We've been through a lot. That means something to me. You were my Commander, but you always listened." He breathes in again, tiredly. "It reminds me why I like you."

Her hands are fascinating as she tries for words. It's what she has wondered for a while, what she needed to hear, and it still throws her a bit. "We've been through a lot."

"Ash's death," they both say together. That sits heavy in the air for a few moments.

"So. Are we good?" He tries not to look earnest. She can tell. Even now.

"Yeah." She means it, because she should have done this before Mars. She should have and almost didn't get the chance. It's like an elcor has nonchalantly moved off of her chest. "We're good."

He grips her hand and it almost makes her jump. It's still a bit cold, she thinks, but she can't remember.

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, then scolds herself silently.

"I'm glad that you …" _Didn't die_. "That you're all right."

He lets go and lies back again. "Me too."


	19. Close

_This time_ there is no hesitation.

_This time_, it is automatic.

_This time_ the shot is in Udina's head before she has time to second guess herself.

Kaidan's eyes widen nearly imperceptibly. She can see his grip falter on the trigger, and he almost questions her.

Thankfully, he doesn't, because how would she explain that?

How does she tell him it is her fault he almost died. That her years of training failed her because it was _him_ and it was _too close_ and she cared _too much_?

She almost lost him once to her own hesitation.

_This time_ there was no hesitation.


	20. Forgiveness

"It was for you."

Jeryn sucks air over her teeth and stares at Kolyat. She's not sure she heard what he just said. Not really.

"What?"

"He has already asked forgiveness for the lives he's had to take."

Her mouth falls open slightly, and she shakes her head.

_I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to have my soul and my deeds on the lips and thoughts of a dying man._

She remembers how he offered to watch over Kaidan, knowing what they both knew. If he hadn't been there, doing that for her, perhaps the assassin's blade wouldn't have found him. At the same time, though, maybe that price would have been her life.

Or his.

She's humbled beyond anything she can give words to. She feels like her soul was damned long ago. No matter how you rationalize it, as duty or a job, she's a trained killer. Only snipers really know how snipers are trained to be good at what they do.

It is possible that it is a lot like how an assassin learns skill in their own job.

She never saw honor in that. Only necessity. She'd never thought to ask for forgiveness for the things she'd done.

But it seems someone else did.

"Good bye, Thane. You won't be alone for long."


	21. Priceless

_Would have liked to have run test on seashells_.

It glitters down from the sky, as if raining gold. It is no less precious, and to the Krogans, it is priceless. Jeryn stands, struck silent and still in absolute awe, tinged with bittersweet loss.

"I am sorry that he had to die," Eve's voice is like the strands of the strongest silk in her sympathy. Jeryn knows that she had come to find Mordin a friend. There was affection that was obvious between them, Krogan and Scientist Salarian. It's difficult to spend so much time in proximity with a person without learning to care about them, even a little. "I shall honor his loss."

Jeryn shakes her head, a hint of a smile on her lips even through the grief that pulls at her. "No. He wouldn't have had it any other way."

_Someone else might have gotten it wrong_.

Wrex' excitement is palpable and contagious. Jeryn isn't immune to the sense of hope that the two Krogan leaders feel about their future. The Krogan have long welcomed her among them, in their own way, and the kinship she they have granted her lets her enjoy this, even if only for a moment.

"We'll name one of the children after him." He says it with a loud guffaw but Jeryn knows he means it.

Mordin would probably approve.

It was the right thing to do, even if their hopes for a future weren't intertwined. While Mordin's death still coils painfully in her stomach, she's happy. Happy to have been a part of it.


	22. Back

"It's not every day that you have an armed standoff with someone you love. I can't help feeling that you would have taken me out."

The first part catches her so off her guard that she blinks several times before she comprehends it. She wants to hear him repeat it, but instead she shakes it off.

"That would never happen. I trust you. I knew you'd come around." Come around to what? To this? "Besides, you'd have done the same thing."

He probably wouldn't have hesitated.

He nods slowly. "Shepard," he starts. "Jeryn," he softens. "Hackett made me an offer … it was a good one but … if there is any chance I can come back to serve on board the Normandy, under you. I mean … with." She thinks she sees a bit of embarrassment in his eyes and she represses a smirk.

"Of course. Glad to have you on board."

Her mind is reeling with a thousand things unsaid, and her heart jumps up into her throat. She swallows it down. She doesn't want to ruin the moment. She stays professional, offers a hand to shake.

The clasp feels firm and inviting, and anything but appropriate.

Finally, a smile creeps across her face as his eyes crinkle at the corners. She wonders how she didn't notice the grey at his temples before, or how it has only added to his features.

"Welcome aboard, Major."

"Ma'am." He salutes, always with smart movements and perfect posture. She would never know he'd been half dead in a hospital bed not too long ago.

With all that has happened, all the losses they've all felt keenly in the passing time since leaving Earth, this moment is refreshing and welcome.

He's back.

He spins on his boot and strides off, and Jeryn takes just a moment to watch him before she follows.


	23. Maternal

"Dammit, Shepard!" Grunt sounds pissed before she even sees him.

Internally, Jeryn cringes. Her face only shows the certainty that this is the right thing to do. It was back on Noveria, and it is here, now.

"We hold them back, so the Queen can escape." She isn't asking.

"Shepard, are you sure?" Garrus barely hesitates and starts firing as Jeryn takes out the Reaper node, freeing the Queen.

"Shepard, get out of here," Grunt tries to push her out the tunnel, but she grabs his arm.

She knows that he's Krogan, that he's tank bred, and that he's a royal pain in the ass to everyone who crosses paths with him. It's what makes him a good soldier, and an even better Krogan. If ever she was going to have a maternal instinct, this is the closest she is going to get. She raised him, killed a thresher maw with him, and fought at his side.

"Grunt, no, come on—"

His bright blue eyes reflect the phosphorescent light from the cave walls even as he glares at her. If she didn't know better, she'd swear it was affection she sees. There will be no getting through his skull plates to reason with him, and there isn't time to try.

Nodding once, she shoves turns and shoves Vega as she makes for the tunnel exit. She can hear the screeching of the ravagers behind her even while they gain the shuttle. Cortez has the hatch open, and Garrus reaches out to help her up and in.

She isn't ready to let him go.

Garrus pulls her up, and she reaches up to grab the shuttle hatch as they lift off. A crimson flash catches her eye.

"Stop! Wait!" She's on the ground before Cortez can react.

Grunt staggers out of the cave entrance, and before he hits the ground she's catching the full bulk of him, covered in slime and muck and what she hopes isn't his blood. Her shoulder's jerk under the weight, but she keeps him from hitting the ground, urging him towards the shuttle.

"Grunt," she breathes, relief and worry entwined in one syllable.

"Anyone … got something to eat? Any more of those fish?" His voice is garbled, but it's strong. _He's_ strong. Whatever happened in there, he came through. It's such a Grunt thing to say, and she knows he's going to be all right.

"Let's move!" she shouts, and they all three haul him aboard and pull the hatch as the shuttle lifts off.


	24. Moment

She has almost convinced herself that she doesn't need to hear it. That the couple of times he's spat it out mid-quarrel was enough to know. She has almost made herself believe that the chasm between them, even when fighting side by side, was fine with her.

She's gathered the shroud of this fantasy around her for so long that it startles her when he says it. He curls his fingers around her hand, brushing his thumb over the place where her trigger finger is slightly callused. He holds it to the slight scruff of his cheek, and for the moment there are no reapers or Cerberus agents. There is no devastation. There are no aching memories of everything that went wrong between them after the first Normandy exploded and she was spaced and the one where he walked back aboard the ship. No tears shed at his bedside. None of it exists for that space of time.

One moment, brief and fleeting, but theirs. After so long, it's enough, and all she needs.


End file.
